


Be Prepared

by Ruuger



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Backstory, Bullying, Gen, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-14 00:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3401510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruuger/pseuds/Ruuger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick Jane has never liked bullies.<br/>Set around the same time as the flashback in "Throwing Fire".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Prepared

His stomach growling with hunger, Patrick rummaged the cabinets above the Airstream's tiny kitchen until he spotted a dusty can of coke and a half eaten bag of chips. He grinned to himself. Jackpot. 

He grabbed the food and went outside, sitting down in the trailer's doorway to eat his breakfast. All around him, the men were pulling down the tents and dismantling the big metal, preparing for the jump. His father was supposed be doing the same, but Patrick hadn't seen him since the night before. He'd considered starting on his own, but the tarpaulin was too heavy for him to move alone, and if he broke anything, it would only make his father mad. He was now hoping to spot Mr. Valentini who owned the big metal to ask if he could spare one of the men to help him so that their gear would be packed and ready before the jump. 

"Your old man not back yet?"

Patrick looked up to find Miss Solange, the bearded lady, standing next to him. She was wearing plain jeans and a slightly too tight t-shirt with a faded logo of some university basketball team printed on it, a stark contrast to the colourful sequined dresses she wore when there were marks around.

He stood up and put down the coke and chips. 

"No, ma'am, he's running some errands. But he'll be back soon. We'll be ready before noon, I swear."

Solange snorted. "Don't lie to me, Paddy. We both know damn well that he's passed out in a ditch somewhere. You don't need to cover for him." She let out an irritated harrumph and shook her head. "I swear to God, one day I'll give that lout of a father of yours a piece of my mind."

She pursed her lips and gave him a stern look, then sighed.

"It's no good for a boy like you, not having a mother. God knows what you'll end up like without a woman setting you straight." She tilted her hip to slip one hand to the pocket of her jeans and dug out few crumpled dollar bills. "Here. Walk to town and buy yourself a real breakfast. I'll ask Mister Valentini to tell his men to take care of your things."

He took the money and put it in his shirt pocket. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Don't you ma'am me, boy," she said, her eyes narrowing, and then pulled him to a hug. 

She was smiling when she finally let go of him. 

"Now shoo! We're leaving at noon, so you'll better be back by then."

The road outside the fairground was quiet, with not a single person in sight, but Patrick had barely gotten out of the gate when he heard someone calling after him.

"Hey, freak!"

He didn't react to the voice, and kept on walking as if he hadn't heard it. A few seconds later something small and hard hit his back, then another, and he hastened his steps when a third pebble grazed his head with a sting of pain. 

There was a small ditch behind the fairground that went all the way to the genny, and he figured that if he could reach it, he could slip back inside the fence and to the safety of the lot. For all their talk, townies didn't usually dare to come inside the fences when the gate was closed. 

He was almost at the ditch when hands suddenly gripped the back of his shirt and he was thrown against the fence. 

"I was talking to you, freak!"

There were three of the boys, all at least a few years older than him. The one who'd grabbed him seemed to be the leader: a tall, wide-shouldered gorilla in a red letterman jacket. 

"You're a carny, right? So what are you? The dog-faced boy?"

The other boys snickered at the joke. 

Patrick licked his lips, trying not to let his fear show. "I read minds."

"Oh yeah? Then what am I thinking?"

"You're thinking 'thank god he can't really read minds because otherwise he'd know th-'"

He didn't even see the boy make a fist before it already hit the side of his face. He crumpled to the ground, and then stayed there, trying to blink away the tears of pain. It wasn't the first time someone had punched him, and he suspected that it wouldn't be the last time either.

"Aww, you made the doggie cry," one of the cronies said, and all three boys burst into laughter.

Patrick rubbed his eyes, heat rising on his face. He could feel anger simmer inside him, like burning napalm. His hands curled into fists, but he kept his eyes on the ground, not wanting let them see his face. The boys were older than he was, and bigger, but it didn't matter because he was smarter than them. Better than them. They were just worthless bullies who would never amount to anything. Not like him. He was going to be something great.

This was a small town, with a church and superstitions, and he'd learned from his father that places like this was where where you found the best marks. 

Wiping away the last of the tears he pulled himself up, lifted his chin and looked the lead bully straight in the eye.

"So you want me to tell which one of you still wets his bed, then?" 

He was shooting blind, but he concentrated on reading the boys and yes, there it was, that slight flash on embarrassment in the eyes of the taller crony. Patrick met his eyes, and the boy turned beet red.

"M-maybe we should let him go," the boy stammered.

The lead bully glanced at his friend, frowning, and then shoved Patrick. This time, Patrick had been expecting it, and shoved back. "Quit it!"

"Or what?"

"Or I'll kill you with my mind."

The boys laughed again. The head bully leaned closer, his face only inches away from Patrick's.

"Bullshit. You can't do nothing."

Patrick held the boy's gaze, fighting the urge to just run away. "Why do you think I'm with the circus and not in school? My dad and I had to go on the run after I killed my math teacher. He pissed me off and so I made his heart stop." 

The boys had gone quiet now, and Patrick could tell that he had their full attention. "All I have to do, is _this_." 

He snapped his fingers.

All three boys reflexively turned to look at his hand, like dogs obeying a command. He almost had to laugh, it had been so easy. "Can you feel your heart slowing down? It's still beating but it's getting slower, slower, slower, slower, slower..." He focused on keeping his voice steady, like his grandfather had taught him when he was little. "Your fingers should be tingling already. Can you feel it?"

He raised his hand again, and the boys' gaze followed his movement. "And if I snap my fingers a second time..."

The taller crony was the first one to break. He suddenly turned around, and ran away. The other two boys hesitated for a few seconds before following him.

Patrick watched them until he was sure they couldn't see him anymore, and then turned around and ran back to the safety of the fairground. He was still hungry, but he knew he couldn't risk going to town anymore. He didn't want to seem like he was afraid of the boys, but if he ran into them again, he knew wasn't going to get away this easily second time. Besides, his father would be worried if he wasn't at the trailer when he came back. 

For a few moments he just stood by the fence, watching the men as they dismantled the rides and tents, before he made his mind.

He could go to see if Miss Sawyer had already packed away her grab-joint, and make puppy-dog eyes at her until she gave him something to eat, and then use the money Miss Solange gave him to buy comics when they got to the next town. 

He grinned. Maybe it wasn't going to be such a bad day after all.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Scout's Honor (Remix of "Be Prepared")](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12004317) by [Syrena_of_the_lake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrena_of_the_lake/pseuds/Syrena_of_the_lake)




End file.
